


knowing is the easy part

by gothyringwald



Series: S15/future Destiel Fix-Its [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insomnia, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Talking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 02:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: When Jack brought Cas back, Dean had thought things would be different between them. Hewantedthem to be different. He was totally prepared, or as prepared as he ever would be, to finally spill his guts to Cas.All it would take, he had thought, was to find the words and then they’d bothknow, and it wouldn’t be everything but it would be a start. But he hasn’t been given the chance to say a damn thing, because since Cas came back he’s been avoiding Dean.Now, it’s no longer only a matter of telling Cas he loves him, too, but figuring out what the heck is going on.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: S15/future Destiel Fix-Its [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026505
Comments: 22
Kudos: 65





	knowing is the easy part

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Knowing is the easy part; saying it out loud is the hard part.’  
> —The Horse Whisperer
> 
> [Promo on Tumblr](https://ersatzangel.tumblr.com/post/645679150432190464/knowing-is-the-easy-part-m-wip-another)   
>  [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2CQ0HEun70IgZ2ZjNOSJHV?si=pa5vhiJgQrGj7H7tb5hl7w)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another S15 fix-it!
> 
> Please note that the rating is for the fic overall, and not every chapter :) and there may end up being more than 5 chapters (but there won’t be fewer)

It takes Dean three days to corner Cas.

When Jack brought Cas back, Dean had thought things would be different. He _wanted_ them to be different. He was totally prepared, or as prepared as he ever would be, to spill his guts. It was only fair, after all, and what Cas deserved. But more than that, Cas’s confession had knocked something loose in Dean, something that, when the dream of Cas coming back became a reality, was all but battering at his insides, screaming to get out.

And that was fine, because for once, Dean _wanted_ to tell Cas the things he’s been holding back for so long. Dean had barely had time to breathe between defeating Chuck and feeling like he was drowning on dry land before Jack brought Cas back and then Dean was buoyed by a feeling he’s never felt before. The feeling that something he wants so much it hurts is within his grasp. Right there, waiting for him to reach out and take it.

All it would take, he had thought, was to find the words and then they’d both _know._ They’d both know and— And that would be a _start_. But he hasn’t been given the chance to say a damn thing, because since Cas came back he’s been avoiding Dean.

At first, Dean thought maybe it was overwhelming, being back from whatever a place like The Empty might be, and Cas needed some space to adjust. Fine. Dean could give him space, no matter how much he didn’t want to let him out of his sight.

But it’s been _days,_ and he’s barely glimpsed Cas.

So, now, Dean is sitting by his desk, staking out the stretch of hallway between the bathroom and Cas’s room. The door is only open a crack, so Cas doesn’t see the light spilling out and get spooked, which means Dean’s relying on the sounds in the bunker more than anything.

It’s not the most sophisticated strategy, but Cas has been an elusive bastard, and Dean doesn’t know what else to do. If Dean weren’t a mess of conflicting emotions, he might be impressed that Cas has managed to avoid him so thoroughly when they’re the only two people in the bunker, and neither of them have left since Sam went to see Eileen two days ago.

The pipes throb and shudder in the walls, bringing Dean back to the present, and then there is the soft slap of footsteps down the hall. Dean darts to his door, blood tingling in his veins. He presses his forehead to cool wood, hand curled tight around the doorknob. He’s waiting for the right moment so it seems like he’s just casually opened the door and run into Cas, and not like it’s planned.

The footsteps grow closer, and closer still, and at the last moment before they pass by, Dean throws the door open and says, ‘Oh, hey, Cas. Time for bed, huh?’ neither casual, nor smooth. But the second his gaze lands on Cas he’s hit by the desire to touch him, go to him, throw his arms around him, _touch him_. It’s so strong it nearly knocks him off his feet.

The desire withers, though, when Cas freezes, shoulders hunching as he turns to Dean. The murky light casts a halo around his head; his brows are furrowed, eyes wide beneath them. ‘Dean.’ He swallows, hands opening and closing at his sides.

He looks trapped, and Dean’s stomach sinks even as something like anger, but might only be hurt, curls behind his ribs. What the hell has Dean done for Cas to react like this? He hasn’t spoken to the guy in days. But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he should have tried harder to track Cas down, talk to him. Maybe Cas thinks Dean doesn’t want him here. Maybe he's been walking into rooms as Dean's been walking out of them and the place is just too damn big for either of them to realise.

Caught between the urge to retreat and give Cas space, or step forward and touch him, Dean ends up shuffling back, awkwardly cocking a hip against his desk. ‘Hey, uh, come in for a minute.’

Cas takes half a step toward Dean’s room. ‘Is everything…OK?’

‘Yeah, course.’ The words come out too light, too offhand. Dean swallows. He’s backed all the way against his desk and Cas still hasn’t moved from the pool of light in the hallway. ‘Just wanted to talk.’ He tries a smile. ‘It’s been a while.’

Cas hesitates, flicking a glance down the hall toward his room, before he finally crosses the threshold. He folds his arms over his chest, then lets them hang by his sides.

Neither of them speak.

It should be easy. This should be easy. Cas laid the groundwork and all it should have taken was for Dean too peak his piece, and they could— They could be together, right?

And, fine, maybe Dean was being naïve to think it would be easy after all these years—and he never thought what happened after would be easy, relationships are work, that’s what Sammy’s always telling him—but he didn’t think it would be hard. He didn’t think it would be _this_. Awkwardness and Cas avoiding him and, sure, Dean could ask him why, but he’s not sure he wants the answer. What if Cas regrets…

Dean runs a hand over his face. This is ridiculous. Cas is probably still off-kilter from being in The Empty and coming back human. It’s not about Dean. He moves over to Cas, mentally sorting through everything he wants to say, hoping he’ll figure out where to start in the next few steps. But he stops short when Cas turns his face toward the light. It’s the first proper look Dean’s had at him in days and Cas looks…rough. All wan complexion and dark circles and more stubble than usual.

The beatific smile that had lit up Cas’s face as The Empty took him is burned into Dean’s memory. It’s the kind of smile that, any other time, would have made Dean’s heart soar and his stomach do that annoying twisting flip that only Cas can kindle. But watching Cas smile like that when… Well, it had only torn his guts out. Actually, having his guts torn out hurt less.

The thing is, Cas couldn’t look further from that, now, his mouth turned down, matching the dejected slump to his shoulders.

It makes Dean’s stomach twist in a different way and he’s stepping closer, saying, ‘Are you OK?’ because maybe Cas is sick. It would be like him, to avoid Dean if he’s sick, not wanting to be a burden, or something stupid like that.

Cas blinks. ‘Yes.’

Dean reaches out, brushing his knuckle along the dark smudge under Cas’s eye. ‘Well, you look like shit.’

Cas turns away, rubbing his face, whether to chase away the ghost of Dean’s touch, or a futile attempt to erase the dark circle, Dean doesn’t know. ‘Thank you,’ Cas deadpans.

Dean sighs. ‘I just meant you’re looking kinda rough.’ Right. Not much better. ‘You sick, or something?’

‘I’m fine, I just—’

‘Just what?’

‘I haven’t slept much.’

Dean’s brows raise.

‘At all,’ Cas admits, ‘since I…’ He sighs, cheeks a little flushed, as though sleepless nights are anything to be embarrassed about.

It tangles in Dean’s chest and he curses himself. He should have been looking out for Cas, trying harder to pin him down and make sure he’s been doing okay. After everything Cas has given up for him—

Dean swallows and says, ‘What’s keeping you up?’

‘Nothing.’ Cas ducks his gaze. ‘It’s just…going to take a while to adjust to human needs again.’

Dean can tell Cas is holding back, so he tries to catch Cas’s eye, but it doesn’t work like it usually does. It casts Dean adrift and he hates it because Cas is always an anchor for him. ‘You sure that’s all it is?’

‘Yes, Dean, I’m sure.’ Cas squares his jaw. ‘Is this what you wanted to talk about?’

‘No, I—’

‘Then can it wait till morning? I’m tired and I’d like to lie down.’

The abruptness leaves Dean wrong-footed and he only nods, tongue clumsy in his mouth. ‘Sure,’ he murmurs, ‘yeah. You should…go. Try and sleep. You need it.’ As he talks, he moves back, edging toward his bed. ‘I’m pretty beat, too.’

Cas gives a curt nod and then he sweeps out of Dean’s room.

Dean stares at the empty space dumbly. What the fuck is going on?

—

The sheets are tangled around Dean’s legs, twisted and stifling; he rolls onto his back, kicking them away. Then he turns onto his side, punching his pillow, and pulling the covers back up to his hips. The clock reads 2 am. He hasn’t had a minute of shut-eye.

After talking to Cas, his mind has been racing with everything that might be wrong between them, now, all the what-ifs chasing each other. The worse is what if Cas regrets…

 _No_.

Dean gropes for the lamp, blinking against the light as he pushes himself up. The bottle of whisky in the top drawer of the nightstand is empty. He groans.

It doesn’t take long to debate the merits of lying here stone-cold sober and wide awake versus seeking out some booze and drinking himself to sleep. He swings out of bed and shuffles down the hall, back stiff and knees cracking. Light spills out from under Cas’s door, and Dean stops, taking a step toward the room. He could try to talk to Cas again, sort things out between them before they get worse. Or, he could get as drunk as it’s possible for him to get.

The lights buzz, electricity hums: the bunker singing its nocturne. Dean raises his hand and knocks.

There’s no reply for so long that Dean is about to give up, when Cas finally calls out, ‘Come in,’ in a tone that doesn’t sound entirely convinced of its invitation.

Dean pushes the door open, making a mental note to oil the hinges as it creaks, and steps inside. It’s a little cooler in here, and as sparse as it ever was. There’s the bed, the desk—a photo of Jack pinned above it, one of Dean, Cas and Sam next to it—Cas’s trench coat slung over the chair. One small succulent, Dean doesn’t know the name of, sits by the lamp on the nightstand.

Cas is sitting on the bed, slumped against the wall, hands folded in his lap. His pyjamas are rumpled, the shirt half unbuttoned and slipping aside, showing his collarbone, the hint of a shoulder. It doesn’t look like he’s slept, either.

‘Still can’t sleep, huh?’

‘Obviously.’

Dean rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. ‘That why you’re being so pissy?’

‘I’m not—’ Cas snaps his mouth shut, eyes hot, but he looks a little sheepish, at least. He shrugs.

‘Then what’s up? We’ve barely spoken since you got back. I thought, after… That we would—’ Dean swallows. He lets the unsaid words hang between them, not sure if he wants to speak them, or let them fade away. Cas’s expression is guarded but there’s curiosity in there, too. Maybe something hopeful.

It should steel Dean, but he feels wrung out, and only says, ‘Doesn’t matter. We should…we should figure out the not sleeping thing.’

Cas looks away.

Dean’s a fucking coward. He looks around the room, _not_ to avoid looking at Cas, just…just because. All the lights are on, flooding the room; in fact, there might be an extra lamp, or two. ‘What’s with all the lights?’

‘Nothing,’ Cas says, but he looks caught out.

It makes Dean wonder, so he asks, ‘You don’t wanna turn ‘em out? It’s pretty bright,’ careful to keep any suspicion out of his voice.

‘No!’

Dean’s brows raise. He pulls out the chair by Cas’s desk, drags it to the side of his bed. ‘Talk to me.’

‘I’m fine, Dean, it’s nothing.’

‘You sure? Because you just about bit my head off when I suggested turning out the lights.’

‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’

‘You can start with what’s wrong.’

‘Like I said, nothing.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Cas huffs. ‘I don’t see why not.’

‘Because I know you, Cas, and I know you’re bullshitting. But if you don’t want to to talk to me…’ An agonising silence stretches out, Cas not looking at Dean, until Dean says, ‘You know what, I’ll just let you _not_ get some sleep.’ Chair legs scrape over the floor as he stands, too loud in the quiet of the room.

‘Dean.’ Cas looks at him, then, his eyes wide and almost mournful, something desperate in them, even as he sounds like he’s throwing Dean a bone when he says, ‘You can stay.’

Dean waits a moment then drops back into the chair, his pulse skipping. ‘What’s going on, man?’ He means more than why Cas is in such a shitty mood, why he can’t sleep, but he’s not sure it’s the right time, now, for the other conversation.

‘I don’t…’ Something in Cas softens as he glances at Dean, catching his eye. ‘I can’t seem to stand having the lights off.’ He takes in a deep shuddering breath and adds, ‘The dark is too…consuming.’

Dean hadn’t asked Cas what The Empty was like, but the name is kind of a clue. He wonders if being there, again, resting in oblivion or whatever, had sparked this fear of the dark. Or if it’s being human, not having his grace to help him through the night, that’s the problem. Dean’s not sure Cas would tell him, right now, so he says, ‘That explains the light.’

It doesn’t explain why Cas has been avoiding him, though. He ignores the pitching in his stomach and how his chest feels a little too tight, focussing instead on the problem at hand. ‘But you’re still not sleeping with them?’

Cas shakes his head. ‘No, they’re too bright, like you said.’

‘You could’ve told me, you know.’

‘I…there was no need to worry you. What could you do?’

Yeah. What _can_ Dean do. He sighs, but something occurs to him. He snaps his fingers, brightening for a moment. ‘I can fix it.’

‘What, how?’

‘Wait here, I’ll be back.’ Dean ignores Cas’s confused squint and heads out the room and down the hall.

It takes him ten minutes and six boxes to find what he’s looking for, and he returns to Cas’s room a little sweaty, a little dusty, with a string of coloured lights tangled in his arms.

‘Christmas lights?’ Cas is still on the bed, but he’s shifted so he’s sitting at the foot, hands resting on his knees, spine slouched in exhaustion.

‘Yeah,’ Dean says, ‘I figured if the lamps are too bright, but you don’t wanna be in the dark, maybe these’ll help.’ He rubs a hand over the back of his neck; some of the string unspools, lights clattering to the floor. He winces. ‘And it’ll liven up your room a bit.’

‘I don’t need—’ Cas’s throat clicks. ‘I told you, it’s fine, I just have to adjust.’

Irritation flickers in Dean’s chest; he can’t tell if it’s at Cas for being so damn stubborn, or at himself for making Cas feel like he can’t ask for help, or accept it when it’s offered. ‘Yeah, well, you can use these _while_ you adjust.’ He looks around for somewhere to hang the lights, then back to Cas, staring him down. ‘Now, where d’you want ‘em?’

A gusty sigh and Cas relents, saying, ‘Wherever’s easiest.’

Dean rolls his eyes, shoving half the string at Cas. Between them, they make short work of stringing the lights above Cas’s bed; Dean turns them on when they’re done, then flips off the lamps. The room is bathed in blue and green and red, making Dean think of neon signs shining through motel room windows. It’s homey. Nice.

The lights catch in Cas’s eyes, play over the sharp planes and soft curves of his face. Even in this lighting he looks exhausted, but he still takes Dean’s breath away. Always does.

‘Better?’ Dean asks, voice coming out a little rough. He’s drifted closer to Cas without realising, but that’s nothing new. He clears his throat.

‘Yes,’ Cas says, ‘I think so,’ but there’s still something guarded in his voice. Still something he’s holding back.

Dean touches Cas’s elbow. ‘You know you can talk to me. About anything.’

Cas turns to Dean, brows raised. They say something like _You, Dean Winchester,_ want _to_ _talk_?

‘Yeah, yeah, I know I ain’t the best at this,’ Dean says, answering Cas’s unasked question, ‘but if it’ll help. You know, ease your troubled mind, or something.’

‘There’s nothing on my mind.’ Cas gives a little shrug. ‘I’m too tired to think.’

‘OK. Well, if you want company…’

For a moment, it seems like Cas will accept— _Yes, Dean, I want you here and nowhere else_ , or something less dramatic—but then he says, ‘There’s no point both of us being awake all night,’ and Dean still can’t figure what’s going wrong.

‘Right.’ It’s a flimsy excuse, a kiss-off, a kick in the guts, but Dean waits a beat, and then two, hopeful heart in his throat, before he adds, ‘I guess I’ll leave you to it.’

When Cas doesn’t say anything else, Dean walks away, but he pauses by the door. Turns back to look at Cas. His breath hitches and he thinks about saying it, now, no matter that the timing feels off. ‘Cas, I’m…’ He sighs. ‘I’m real glad you’re here.’

‘Oh.’ Cas blinks. Dean can’t tell if he’s surprised that Dean feels that way, which would be _stupid_ , or if he’s surprised Dean has said it. Cas shifts his weight. ‘I—’

‘Anyway,’ Dean says, cutting Cas off, the last of the nerve that’s filled him the past few days wavering, ‘if you change your mind about wanting company, you know where I am.’

‘Dean.’

‘Yeah?’

They stare at each other a few moments, wrapped in coloured light, before Cas simply says, ‘Thank you.’

Dean gives a small, half-hearted smile, says, ‘No problem,’ then heads down the hall to his room, whisky forgotten. He waits, and waits, but Cas doesn’t come and Dean spends the small hours staring at his ceiling, what-ifs still chasing each other through his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :D 
> 
> I’m still finding my footing with writing this ship and I’m still only up to S9 on my re-watch so it’s messing with my head a little writing them at this point but, uh, yeah…IDK where I’m going with this XD 
> 
> ETA: I deleted part of my original note because I think I confused everyone by mentioning this started life as a one shot (but this chapter was not the one shot I was aiming to write, I just ended up expanding part of that and including some other ideas) but do not fear, this is definitely not a one shot! I’d feel too cruel leaving it here 😂 (plus I have some things I’m really looking forward to writing) 
> 
> And please feel free to come find me on Tumblr [@ersatzangel](http://ersatzangel.tumblr.com/) which is my SPN tumblr - it’s mostly me reblogging things but I do post my fics there and my art, sometimes or [@gothyringwald](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/) (which is my main and vaguely multi-fandom)
> 
> Speaking of Tumblr, there is [a promo banner thingie for this fic over there](https://ersatzangel.tumblr.com/post/645679150432190464/knowing-is-the-easy-part-m-wip-another) if you’re into reblogging those things :) 
> 
> Oh, and I [have a playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2CQ0HEun70IgZ2ZjNOSJHV?si=p55PR-clQEeUG8TFHInMHQ)that I listened to while writing so I guess it’s kind of a soundtrack for it?


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